


The Dragon Tamer

by frantstic



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Teenagers, Game of Thrones-esque, M/M, it's a lot of fun, lots of fantasy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantstic/pseuds/frantstic
Summary: Dan is the last dragon tamer alive and a well known mercenary to the Ten Islands, hired to kill Price Phil Lester of the Island Allister.





	The Dragon Tamer

Dan laid on the hill, the blades of grass tickling his cheek with every light breeze that passed through the meadow. The sun shone on his skin like a warm blanket. It was the longest moment he had to himself in a while. His job was, to say the least, demanding. And it was only moments like these he was allowed to take a breath.

His peace was interrupted by a slight caw, the steady sound of wings beating, and, eventually, the sharp dig of a pair of tiny claws in his shoulder. His eyes flew open.

“Fafnir,” he grumbled. “What is it?”

Fafnir cawed again. He was a small thing, barely larger than a lizard, and his green scales glowed in the early morning sun. He was clutching a scroll of paper in his beak.

“What’s this?” Dan mused, snatching it from Fafnir’s small teeth. He unfurled the letter and skimmed the page quickly. As he read, his fingers traced the top of Fafnir’s head. His brow furrowed with every sentence on the page.

“Looks like our services are needed in Allister.” Dan stood and turned to his dragon, looking into his yellow eyes. “Wake the others.”

Fafnir growled, a low sound in the back of his throat, before he unhinged his claws from Dan’s shoulder and took off for the wooden house at the top of the hill. 

Dan sighed and looked out into the green ocean, the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs of the Island Dragan, home of the last nests of the great species of dragons, and of Dan since he was very young. Dan had been raised by the dragons, learning to understand and harness the brutality of their kind, a brutality few could brave. He had learned to act, to fight, and to live as vicious as they, never knowing the gentle touch of a fellow human, never being infected by the compassion found inside the inferior race. He hunted without care, and killed without thought. 

Ever since the neighboring of the other nine islands heard of Dan’s abilities, and heard he was one of the only humans left in the world that could successfully rein in the dragons, they found their uses for him. And overtime, the word spread, until all of the Ten Islands knew of Dan’s aptitude for killing, of his stone cold glare that never wavered, even when his enemies groveled at his feet, tears dripping onto the floor. 

And now, Dan had been hired to kill the prince of the Island Allister by the king’s own right hand. Gareth of House Warshaw feared the young monarch would be as corrupt as his father, who was lying sick in bed, prepared to die at any moment. It was Dan’s duty to make sure that he wouldn’t get the opportunity to destroy Allister with his tyrannical rule, as his father before him did, and instead pass the crown to Gareth, who vowed to rule justly and fairly. 

Dan’s assignment was clear. Phil of House Lester would need to be dead before his father croaked his final breath. 

Another two dragons appeared at Dan’s side, one long and amber colored like a serpent, with stubby black wings and legs, the other an elegant dark blue, her large head almost three times higher than Dan’s. Dan wedged his boot into one of her ocean colored scales, climbing up her flank until he was seated comfortably between the joints of her wings. Fafnir landed on the head of the amber dragon, squawking loudly. The larger beast growled in reply, quaking the ground below him.

“Apophis,” Dan reprimanded. “We don’t need another avalanche.”

Apophis snorted twin columns of smoke from his nostrils. 

Dan leaned forward and patted the base of his steed’s neck. “Ready Ikuchi?” 

She scraped her claws into the soft grass, leaving four deep trenched in the dirt the width of Dan’s arm. 

“Then let’s ride.”

It was a short journey to the Island Allister. Dan and his dragons only needed to cross the mountainous island of Magai before touching down on the beach of Allister. 

“You and Apophis take shelter under in the ocean,” Dan told Ikuchi, patting her cheek as his dragon craned her neck down so their gazes locked. Her eye was the size of Dan’s head and the color of ice. “Fafnir can come with me. I’ll whistle if I need you two.”

Ikuchi grunted, her plumed tail kicking up small storms of sand as she wandered into the sea. Apophis followed her until the tips of his claws touched the water. He snarled and bucked anxiously. 

“I know, I know,” Dan told him. “But Ikuchi will keep you dry, and you can come up to land when it’s clear.” 

Apophis didn’t look happy. While Ikuchi might’ve been more comfortable in the water than in her own skin, Apophis was powerless when he wasn’t dry. Dan hated hurting his beasts, but he didn’t see any other way. Two large dragons in the middle of the beach wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

“I’ll be back soon,” Dan assured him.

Apophis still looked angry, but he followed after Ikuchi without lighting any nearby trees on fire, his serpentine body cutting cleanly through the waves. Dan turned to Fafnir on his shoulder. 

“You ready?”

Fafnir replied with a quiet growl and shimmied his way into the satchel at Dan’s side. Dan stared one last time into the sea, in the direction of Dragan, before turning and hiking up the hill towards King’s Village.

Dan had been to a lot of villages in his time as a mercenary, but King’s Village was by far one of the worst. The roads were unpaved save for the main one, which cut through a line of cheap shops loitered by families that smelled like rotten fish and wore old rags. Dan had to tuck his satchel into his dragon skin coat after a horde of grubby children passed, hands fruitlessly dipping into his pockets. The stalls of the marketplace were nearly barren, the shop keepers all but begging for someone to stop and purchase their wares. It took Dan ages to find a cloth merchant with a bin half full with what Dan was looking for. 

“Tunic and trousers please,” he asked, carefully opening up his satchel and avoiding Fafnir’s teeth as he searched for his coins. 

The merchant dug through the cloth and folded up the clothing Dan had requested. “Ten gold pieces.”

Dan bit his tongue. He couldn’t help but feel as if the man was ripping him off. But trouble was the last thing he wanted. Dan dropped the coins into the merchant’s open palm.

“Your accent,” the merchant grumbled. “You aren’t from around here.”

“No…” Dan replied. “I’m here to visit my mother’s father. I haven’t been here in awhile.”

“It’s really nothing like it was before that dreaded king’s reign,” he mumbled, his eyes shifting back at forth. “Say, boy. That’s a nice coat. Where’d you say you were from?”

Dan’s jaw tightened. He hugged the clothes closer to his chest and bowed his head slightly, leaving before the merchant could ask another question. 

By sunset Dan was with his dragons on the beach, keeping a steady eye on the opposite end in case anyone decided to walk by. His tunic and trousers were hanging from Apophis’s horn, drying in the wind after being dunked in the ocean water a few dozen times. Dan didn’t trust anything from that marketplace. He was cooking a fish Ikuchi had caught herself in the sea with a fire Apophis had created. The stars weren’t as bright here, maybe from the smoke of the village. Dan missed his home. He wanted to get off this awful island as soon as possible.

But this time he was tasked with killing a prince. He would have to be here awhile if he wanted to be successful.

Dan fell asleep curled up next to Apophis in the soft sand to the sound of the waves sifting the sand and the deep breaths of his dragons. 

-

“Name and title?” 

Dan swallowed, his arms stiffening behind his back. “Oliver of House Lennox.”

The guard’s eyes traced Dan skeptically. He was lean, but too muscular to have grown up in the slums of Allister. His skin was tanned from spending most of his times outdoors in Dagran, while the people here were pale and sickly. Even his clothing was clean and smelled like salt water instead of animal carcasses. It couldn’t have been more clear that he didn’t belong on the island. 

“House Lennox?” The guard scoffed. “Never heard of them.”’

“We’re a small house on the Island Kapano. I’ve come across the Tenfold Sea to prove my worth. Sir.” 

“To the prince of Island Allister?” The guard still looked skeptical. Dan gritted his teeth and knelt at his feet. 

“I have never admired the leadership skills of a government more than those on Island Allister sir!” he lied enthusiastically. “I beg you to allow me to witness it up close, and serve the future of this kingdom with my life!” 

“All right, all right.” The guard glared at Dan, crouched on the ground pitifully. “Stand up. I’ll escort you to the servant’s quarters.”

“Thank you sir!” 

Dan stumbled to his feet, trying to remain in character, and followed as the gate opened in front of the guard, leading to a pristinely manicured lawn, complete with hedges trimmed into the shapes of lions, a fountain, and a path of cobblestones that shone like they were washed daily. It made Dan sick. If half of the money spent on the garden alone had gone to the village, it might not have smelled so ghastly. 

The castle itself was much more sickly, even through the back corridors towards the servant’s quarters. It was decorated with banners all plastered with the Allister crest, a lion on its hind legs with a thorned rose clutched in its jaw. The halls could comfortably fit both Apophis and Ikuchi, the rafters high enough to support even the water dragon’s enormous height. Before he could take it all it, they were in front of the modest doorway that marked Dan’s new home. He had to bend over to make it through. 

“You’ll be introduced to the prince tomorrow.” They were the guard’s last words before he slammed the door behind Dan and left him only with the echoing noise and the heavy air of imprisonment. 

The next day Dan found himself kneeling again, this time in front of a very different person. 

He didn’t quite know what he was expecting the prince to be like. Vain and young, presumably. He expected his inexperience to be obvious, a reason to kill him immediately to be presented to him on a silver platter. Yet Dan received none of those things. Phil of House Lester seemed almost… kind. Maybe a bit older than him, so not a young and impressionable child either. 

“Leave us,” Phil commanded the guards stationed at the throne room door. 

“Your Grace, is that really wise?” one guard suggested. “We know nothing of this servant.”

Phil looked back down at Dan, not finding anything inherently dangerous. “Do as I’ve commanded.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

Phil waited until the guards had exited before speaking again. “You may rise.”

Dan obeyed, finally able to meet the prince’s eyes. They were a few shades away from the blue of Ikuchi’s own icy gaze. 

“Are you clear on your duties to me, Oliver?” 

“No, your Grace. I hadn’t been told.”

“You will attend to me in the mornings and evenings,” Phil began. “Help me dress, bathe, and groom. You will take and deliver messages. You will clean my quarters when necessary. You will taste my food before I do. You will be ready to serve me at a moment’s notice, night or day. You will be at my side constantly, save for one personal day per week of your choosing. That will be all.”

Dan swallowed. Was that all? He hadn’t prepared for the amount of work actually necessary for going undercover as a servant. He wasn’t sure where he had gotten the impression that no actual serving was going to take place. 

“Yes, your Grace.”

Phil’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne, his brows dipping lower as he stared at Dan. “Your accent is unusual.”

“I’m not from here, your Grace. I’m from the Island Kapano, House of Lennox.”

“Yes. That’s what you’ve told me.” Phil relaxed, but never took his eyes of off Dan. “You’re dismissed Oliver. I expect you at my side for supper in one hour.”

“Yes, your Grace.” Dan bowed as deep as he could before he scurried out of the throne room, fists tight at his side with frustration and mind stuffed with thoughts.

That evening at supper, true to his word, Dan bit out of Phil’s steak first. It was decadent and cooked perfectly, much better than the gamey forest meat he lived off of on Dragan, and undeniably better than the rotten food in the village. Phil sat next to the king’s hand, the very man who had commissioned Dan for this job. They didn’t dare meet each other’s eyes. The seat across from Phil was reserved for the king. It was empty. 

“How is Father?” Phil asked, sawing into his steak.

“No better.” 

“Is there any idea of when he will go?”

“We predict in a week or two, my Grace.” Gareth bowed his head politely, but couldn’t mask the glint in his dark eyes. 

Phil swallowed his bite and threw his napkin onto his plate. “I’m not hungry.”

His chair growled against the stone when he pushed it back, the tapping from the heels of his boots echoing through the dining hall. Dan bent over to clean his plate but was interrupted. 

“Oliver! At my side!”

Dan set the plate down and glanced at Gareth before following Phil. 

The prince led him up a spiral staircase and down another grand corridor. Dan could’ve lived in this castle his whole life and still not learn his way around. It was a maze of elegance, of disgustingly polished stones and brightly colored tapestry. Every sword Dan saw hung on the wall prompted the thought of how a single stone from the hilt could’ve fed the peasants for a week. 

Phil collapsed on his silk blankets, spreading his arms out wide and sighing loudly. Dan waited at the threshold, uneasy. 

“How am I expected to rule this island?”

It took Dan longer than it should have to figure out that Phil was talking to him. “W-with fairness and justice, your Grace.”

Phil scoffed. “I suppose that’s exactly what this place needs.”

He sat up quickly, staring daggers at Dan. “My father thinks I’ve only seen what he’s let me see. But it isn’t true. I sneak out, every night. The guards are too daft to notice me. I know what the King’s Village has become under my father. I know what the entire island has become.”

Dan bit his tongue. It wasn’t his place to speak.

“But how am I supposed to change it?” Phil continued. “My father has destroyed my home beyond recognition. Even the wisest of rulers could not reverse the damage he’s done.”

Phil glanced over towards Dan. His features softened. “I’m sorry I’m rambling. This was probably not what you signed up for.”

“I don’t mind, your Grace.” Dan found it strange how easy it was for Phil to switch from a harsh prince to someone compassionate and kind, who appeared to genuinely care about the state his father had left his island in. However Dan knew better than anyone just how deceiving appearances could be. He refused to let his guard down. 

“No matter.” Phil waved his hand. “You’re dismissed, Oliver. Be with me after breakfast tomorrow morning for sword fighting.”

Dan bowed and backed out of the room. If sword fighting involved Dan himself picking up a blade, he wasn’t sure how well he would fare at that. Dan relied on his wits when he fought, choosing to use daggers he could hide in sleeves and soles, instead of a large, heavy sword that was obnoxiously impossible to use discreetly. How much easier would it be to stand behind a victim and slash their throat in the middle of a crowded marketplace, rather than to unsheath a huge blade from your hip and stab someone in the heart? 

Dan was still considering how much he would prefer the dagger burning a hole in the seam of his trousers to the sword clutched nervously in his hands when he stood facing Phil in the back gardens the next morning. 

Conversely, Phil looked rather comfortable with his sword, a long, elegantly crafted metal tool that reflected the sunlight harshly. The hilt was bronze and decorated with the signature thorns of Allister, which wrapped around Phil’s gloved hand as he swung the blade back and forth. The slight whoosh it made as it cut through the air made Dan wince. He was certain he would die at the hands of that blade if his true identity were to be revealed. 

“You ready Oliver?” Phil had an easy grin on his face, a light bounce in his toes. Dan envied his comfort. 

“Yes, your Grace.” He lifted his own sword, muscles tense in an attempt to support the heavy weight. He told himself that this was a prime opportunity to study Phil’s fighting mannerisms. Not all assassinations could be done stealthily. Sometimes a fight was necessary, and if that were the be the case with Phil, he might as well be prepared for it. 

Phil lunged as soon as the words left Dan’s mouth, and he had barely enough time to step out of the way, the blade scraping across the thin armor Dan had been given. He parried as Phil went in again, aiming for his exposed left side. 

“You’re left handed, huh?” Phil mused. “How unusual.”

Phil jabbed again and threw Dan off balance. The prince stepped forward, knocking Dan’s sword aside with the flat end of his own and pointing the tip right at Dan’s neck. 

“Not bad, Oliver.” The grin had never left Phil’s face, but now it grew wider. “Want to try again?”

That night, Dan was about to fall asleep when there was a tapping at the window above his cot. His eyes flew open and his hand found the dagger until his pillow instinctively, but as he raised his head to peek outside he noticed it was only Fafnir, claws scraping against the glass. Dan shot his dragon a stern glance and brought his index finger to his mouth. He watched as Fafnir backed away from the window, shoulders slouching and tail dragging against the sill. 

Dan sighed. He had abandoned his dragons for two days now. They missed him. 

Dan glanced through the servants quarters. Everyone else was asleep, and they stayed sleeping as Dan tossed his thin blankets aside and crept across the room, the cold stone stinging his bare feet. 

Phil was right when he commented on how daft the guards were. Half of them were asleep, the other half too busy laughing loudly with each other to notice Dan’s figure sneak past them. 

He and Fafnir ran through the village and down the hill to the beach, where Apophis was curled up around a fire and Ikuchi’s head was sticking out of the water. The two of them perked up as they noticed Dan.

“Easy, easy,” Dan grumbled as Apophis nudged Dan’s body with his nose, knocking him into the sand. “I trust you three have been doing alright without me. 

Ikuchi growled mournfully, head resting against next to Dan. He patted her cheek. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’ve got an important job to carry out.”

Dan stayed with his dragons for as long as he could, but it was only a couple hours later that the sky started to turn a lighter color as the sun began to rise. 

He said farewell to his beasts and left them each with a wave as he made his way up the hill and back into the village, hoping he could make it in time. It turned out that it didn’t quite matter.

As he was passing the small outcropping of trees, a long blade appeared at his neck, so close Dan could see his own terrified eyes in the reflection. 

“If you don’t want to be killed right now, you’ll keep quiet and walk with me back to the castle.”

Dan tried to steady his shaking breaths. He nodded slowly. 

“Good.”

Phil removed the blade from Dan’s neck and sheathed it, grabbing his wrist so Dan couldn’t run or reach for his own weapons. 

-

“You’re the dragon tamer.”

Dan remained silent, still breathing heavily from the march into Phil’s room.

“There’s no use in that, Dan of House Howell. I saw you, with those dragons. I knew that accent wasn’t Kapanan, and House Lennox?” Phil’s voice was steadily raising. “I’m a fool!”

Dan’s eyes fell on his weapons, the three daggers he had on his person that had been discarded onto the table, at least twenty paces from where Dan was standing. He could try to cross the room, but not without Phil skewering him with the sword still clutched in his hand. He could try to run, but he didn’t think the guards would be as stupid this time of day, and he couldn’t risk going against a whole castle of them with nothing but his fists for protection. 

“Then I suppose that means you’re here to kill me,” Phil said. He laughed. “Killing a king before he’s even taken the throne! Your employer must be incredibly paranoid.”

Dan still didn’t reply. 

“I see how you’re going to play it, then.” Phil brought his sword back up to Dan’s throat. “Do you want to stay alive, dragon tamer?”

Dan held Phil’s gaze steadily. His giant eyes were blown up to twice their usual size, and Dan could see the rings of green and brown around his irises. 

“Yes.”

Phil slowly lowered his weapon until the tip hit the stone floor with a clang. Phil’s gaze fell with it, the mad prince Dan saw only a heartbeat earlier turned into someone sober and tired. 

“Then help me.”

“With what?”

Dan supposed Phil’s response was what he did next, yet it left Dan with more questions than answers. 

Phil’s sword fell to the ground and his hand found its way onto Dan’s cheek. Dan was about to take his wrist and flip him around when Phil connected their lips.

Unless dragon licks counted, Dan had never been kissed before. But even though it was a moody prince he had been hired to kill taking his first kiss, Dan liked it. Phil’s mouth was warm and wet, his hands strong on Dan’s face and waist. Dan heard himself sigh, the tiniest little noise in the back of his throat that he couldn’t control. The noise drew him back to reality and reminded him of what he was doing. 

He pushed Phil away, sputtering and trying to bring words to his mouth. None came. 

“I’m sorry.” Phil wrapped his arms around himself nervously. He suddenly looked very small. “But I need you.”

Dan didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. All he knew was that Phil would kill him if he didn’t continue… whatever this was. 

He was also certain that he didn’t mind at all. 

True to his word, Phil made sure that those meetings became an ordinary thing. 

Nearly every night when Dan came to Phil’s room, he greeted him with his warm mouth and his steady hands and Dan was getting more and more used to it. He was even allowed to sneak out and visit his dragons, on Phil’s watch of course. The dragons never wanted to get close enough for Phil to properly meet them, so he hid in the woods near the beach as Dan comforted his beasts. 

The only thing that made Dan uneasy was the uncertainty of how long this arrangement would last. And the looks Gareth kept casting him at meals, as if asking how much longer it would be until the prince was found dead in his chambers and the servant boy Oliver was nowhere to be found. 

Two weeks after Dan had been caught found he and Phil in the gardens sparring again. Dan had improved with the sword to the point where he was a decent match for the prince. 

“Nice try,” he quipped as Phil aimed for his left side, hitting nothing but open air as Dan slid out of the way. “Not falling for that again.”

“Not falling for what again?” Phil grinned and twisted, his sword travelling quicker than Dan’s reflexes and cutting a chink into the right side of Dan’s armor. “Petty distractions?”

“You’re an arse,” Dan growled teasingly, stepping so his right was protected. 

“No need to call me names.” 

Their swords met in mid air, the sunlight bouncing off the metal shining in Dan’s eyes. They parried and dodged each other’s quick jabs, ignoring the fatigue in their muscles and the layer of sweat on their skin. For a brief moment, it was just the sound of metal on metal and the shine of Phil’s eyes until the messenger approached.

“What is so important as to interrupt my sparring session?” Phil demanded. The messenger knelt. 

“Forgive me, your Grace. But it’s your father. He has passed.”

Phil’s sword fell to the ground. 

Hours later, Dan waited, fisting the blankets on Phil’s bed anxiously. Finally, the door swung open and Phil entered, brow furrowed and movements stiff. 

“You’re the king,” Dan said blandly. 

Phil swallowed. “Yes. The king.”

Dan brought his hand up to Phil’s forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk.”

Phil pushed Dan against his bed, connecting their mouths. But this time was different from the gentle, hidden kisses they normally shared. This was aggressive and charged, and it felt like Phil was consuming every bit of Dan’s being with his hot mouth and his body pinning him to the mattress. 

And Dan found himself slipping and slipping until he finally let go and gave himself over to Phil. 

Hours later they laid in Phil’s bed, bodies intertwined. Phil was twisting one of Dan’s curls around his finger, face flushed, eyelids heavy. Dan’s head rested on Phil’s chest. He could hear the young king’s heartbeat echoing in his ribcage. 

“You need to leave,” Phil whispered. 

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t understand, Dan. Gareth wants me to marry the princess of Magai.”

Dan sat up. “What?”

“She’ll be here tomorrow.” 

“Phil…” Dan muttered. Phil’s eyes closed. 

“You need to go. Please. To make it easier.”

Dan’s heart was torn. He couldn’t leave Phil. He couldn’t just abandon those sad, tired eyes and that cheerful smile, those lips and those hands. But he knew all of those would be gone when the princess arrived. He would be forced to be Oliver forever, nothing but the memory of the taste of Phil’s mouth to satisfy him as he watched his king from afar. It would be easier to return to Dragan. Live with his dragons in isolation from the world and from the inexplicable heart wrenching feeling in Dan’s chest that appeared whenever Phil traced Dan’s cheek with his fingers. 

Phil was right. It was easier to leave now and forget him. 

The last picture Dan had of Phil was him tangled in his silk blankets, arms tucked into his body like he was holding any last memory of Dan close to his chest.

-

Dan’s dragons weren’t expecting him back so soon. They were all asleep in the air bubble Ikuchi had made under the water, and Dan had to dive down into the sea and tug on her tail to wake them. Once they had resurfaced, Dan mounted Ikuchi without a word. Fafnir curled up on his shoulder and fell asleep again. As if he could tell something was wrong, Apophis nudged Dan’s shoe with his snout comfortingly. 

“Let’s go,” Dan mumbled, his voice drowned by the sound of the waves. But Ikuchi heard him anyway. With a beat of her giant wings, they were in the air. 

Back in Dragan, Dan shut himself in his house, much to the dismay of his dragons. He collapsed on his bed, the coarse blankets nowhere near as comfortable as Phil’s, and closed his eyes.

He floated in the purgatory between awake and asleep for what felt like days. To exhausted to get up, mind racing too quickly to relax. He had never felt like this before. Any emotion other than happiness or sadness or anger was out of his range of comprehension until now. He didn’t have a word for what felt like his heart cracking down the middle. 

His dragons helped him. 

Fafnir eventually got him out of bed when the rumbling of Dan’s stomach became too much for the little dragon. Ikuchi brought a bundle of fish to his doorstep, Apophis cooked them over the open flame in his mouth. Fafnir gathered bites of fish in his small claws and bring them to Dan’s open mouth, and molded the cliff rocks with his manipulation over the earth into bowls to give Dan freshwater.

The dragons eventually guilted Dan into standing up and stumbling out of his hut, the bright sun blinding him as it had that day in the back garden of the castle, when it glimmered off the clashing swords. Dan looked at the ground. 

He brought down a rabbit in the woods with his dagger. It was a small rabbit, and he stabbed it in the side which meant a lot of meat had gone to waste, but it was an improvement. 

And he kept improving for almost a month before he woke up one morning to Apophis growling at his door and Fafnir tugging on his curls. 

Dan wandered outside and nearly fainted at the sight before him.

Ikuchi was standing opposite another human, her fangs larger than Dan elongated and her open mouth a cavern of gleaming white teeth. Her claws were dug into the sand and the ice that she had created beneath her, her wings stretched, giving her the appearance of being ten times larger than her already gargantuan size. It was a sight even Dan was afraid of, yet the human opposite to her merely held his sword higher, the defiant look unwavering from his features. 

His features…

Dan recognized those features. 

“Ikuchi, down!” Dan commanded, sprinting across the sand to his dragon. She looked at Dan as if he were mad, but let her wings settle at her sides. 

Dan slowed as he approached the dragon and the man, squinting as if he wasn’t certain of what he was seeing. “You’re alive.”

Phil sheathed his sword and brushed the hair from his eyes. “You’re surprised.”

“I figured after I left my employer would…”

“Hire someone else?” Phil cracked a smile. “No. Gareth was too cowardly to do such a thing. I had evaded death once, he didn’t want to press his chances.” 

“You know who it was?”

“Of course I did. Do you take me for a fool, Dan?” The name felt so good to hear coming from Phil’s lips. “Gareth never liked me or my father. He was always waiting for his turn to strike.”

“What are you doing here?”

Phil took a step closer to Dan. He was too stricken to move away. “I got sick of my wife. I got sick of ruling. I left Gareth take the throne. He was right, he will make a better ruler. He could do more for Allister than I ever could.” 

“You told me to leave.”

“I know. And I regret it. I was just scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know,” Phil replied, exasperated. “Of my feelings and ruling over Allister and I didn’t know anything except that I was falling in love with someone who was hired to kill me.”

Love. 

Dan had never been in love before. He never thought he was capable of experiencing so human an emotion. 

But he knew he was. 

Dan stepped towards Phil, going steadily faster with every step until he was tackling the runaway king into the sand, connecting their lips and finally feeling Phil’s hands back on his waist. He had been starving before this moment but now he was full, he was alive. 

Phil was with him, here to stay, and Dan was full and in love and alive.

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! if you enjoyed this fic, give me a follow on tumblr (dnpeas) for more fics and leave a comment below to help keep me motivated! thanks for reading!


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